Father's Day
by stranded chess piece
Summary: Clay isn't feeling well. Jason looks after him.


**This fandom is the nicest. No, really. I thought I'd point that out. You guys are amazing 3**

**This is a fluffy sickfic with not a whole lot of plot. It's set season 3, some time after Clay rejoins the team. And for the sake of this story I've taken a few creative liberties in regards to Jason's new house, the status of Clay and Stella's relationship, Mandy and Lisa's roles with the team, and also that Father's Day falls around this period. Usual disclaimer, and all mistakes belong to me.**

**Thanks for reading :)**

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

Jason stretched his legs and drew a long sip of his cold beer. God it felt good. Another mission wrapped, homeward bound at 36,000 feet, slowly coming down from the adrenalin rush.

Beside him Ray did the same, releasing a satisfied sigh as he swallowed, eyes skipping to his best friend. "It's not often things go smoothly and exactly to plan," he commented.

Jason leaned forward, beer bottle dangling between his knees. "Now don't you go and jinx us, Ray Perry" he warned. "We aren't home yet."

Ray gave a slight shrug and grinned. "Don't believe in jinxes," he stated confidently. "Can't we take the win?"

Jason considered for a moment, then returned the smile. Took another swig. "I'm hardly the optimist," he countered. "Your unwavering faith versus my eternal pessimism. Let's agree to meet somewhere in the middle."

Ray chuckled, nodded in acceptance.

They sat in silence for another moment, listening to the hum of the engine, the quiet buzz of end-of-mission chatter; the heavy pre-mission tension gone.

"Looks like we'll make it back for the tail-end of Father's Day, after all," Ray commented, smiling. He joined Jason leaning forward. "You got anything planned?"

Jason nodded, remembering his brief conversation with Emma before they had left Mexico. "Uh, yeah," he replied, smiling as he recalled Emma's obvious happiness as he'd told her that he should be home by dinner. He swung his beer bottle gently backwards and forwards.

"Pancakes?" Ray guessed with a grin.

Jason took a swig, smacked his lips. Yep. Pancakes. He nodded, glanced at his friend. "Wouldn't be Father's Day without pancakes for dinner."

Ray let out small laugh, shook his head.

"What's so funny?" Jason tilted his head one way then the other, his neck letting out a satisfying crack, releasing a little more tension from his body.

"The great Jason Hayes," Ray replied, amused. "Badass mother fucker one minute. Pancake-loving father the next."

Jason shrugged, smiling at the thought. "That's this life, isn't it," he reflected. "We're like chameleons." His eyes met Ray's, and he nodded. "We're damn lucky to have families to go home to."

Ray returned the nod. "Amen, brother."

Once again they sat in silence, each drifting through their own thoughts. Jason's gaze wandered around the plane, snagging on the two HVT's they had captured, sitting bound on a bench with sacks over their heads. _Another two assholes bite the dust_. Mandy had been pleased. Jason took another swig of his beer, disappointed to find that he'd nearly finished the bottle.

Gaze wandering again, he observed his guys drinking, chatting happily. It looked like a card game was underway between Sonny, Brock and Trent. Lisa and Mandy were sitting nearby, chatting and watching the boys, throwing conversation back and forth every now and then.

Jason frowned slightly. Where was Clay? Usually their youngest brother was right in the middle of any post-mission celebration.

He did a quick scan, eyes falling on a familiar leg and boot hanging out the side of one of the hammocks further up the plane from the others.

Jason's frown deepened. He tried to shake off his uneasiness, telling himself he was being over-protective. But he couldn't quite let go of the feeling that something was off. And looking back at the rest of his team, noticing the way their glances kept wandering in the direction of the hammock, he realized that he wasn't alone in his concern.

"You noticed Spenser as well?"

Jason's eyes returned to Ray. He hadn't noticed that Ray was mirroring his actions, eyes also on their rookie.

Jason chewed his lip. "Probably just tired," he shrugged. But his words lacked any conviction.

Ray continued staring towards the hammock. "He said that things weren't great again with Stella. Said she's gone away with friends for the weekend, to do some thinking, or something like that."

Jason released an internal groan. He respected Stella, because he could see how much Clay cared for her. But he didn't particularly like her. She wasn't a good fit. They all felt it. But none of them would tell him to leave her. "He's dealing with it better than the last time we were in Mexico," he commented.

Ray shrugged. "He's a different man. A lot has happened since we were last in Mexico."

Jason felt his stomach tighten as Ray's words sank in. He didn't want to dwell on the details or be taken back to that night in Manila when he'd sat beside Clay in the ambulance as the kid had damn near bled out. Didn't want to re-live the horror of coming so close to losing him. Drawing a steadying breath, he shook the thoughts from his mind.

Instead he refocused on the hammock, and the leg that hadn't so much as moved. Something was niggling at him. Without meeting Ray's eyes, he drained the last of his beer and placed the empty bottle on the bench. He stood up and made his way over towards the card game.

Brock looked up as he approached. "Hey boss. Care to join us?"

But Jason waved the offer away, nodding in Clay's direction. "Spenser okay?" He asked casually. "He's put himself to bed."

His three team members didn't seem surprised at the question.

"Said he was tired," Trent explained. "Didn't want a beer, grabbed water instead. Went to lay down."

"And you believed him?" Jason asked, no accusation in his tone. He respected Trent's opinion in all things medical – and all things Clay.

Trent took a sip of his own beer, eyes on the hammock. "Nope," he stated.

Jason thought as much.

"He seemed off," Sonny admitted. "At first I thought he was just feeling down about Stella, what with us heading home and her not being there." He placed his cards down, seeming to lose interest in the game. "They're on the rocks again," he added, obvious annoyance at the fact. And then he added under his breath, "She breaks his heart again, I swear to God I'm gonna …" His words trailed off as he chose not to finish the sentence, clenched his fists instead.

"We've been keeping an eye on him," Brock spoke up. "Were just deciding who was going to go check on him."

Jason's eyes met Trent's. Clay hadn't seemed off during their mission, and as far as he was aware hadn't sustained any injuries. "Thoughts?"

Trent let out a slow breath, shook his head. "I just have to trust that he'll come see me if there's something wrong."

Jason was about to argue that it was Clay, and he could be stubborn about these things, when the leg in the hammock moved.

All eyes fixed in that direction as their youngest brother wobbled upright, scrubbed a hand over bleary eyes, and took a moment to hold onto the sides of the slightly swaying hammock, as if steadying himself. They all noticed how slowly he placed both feet on the floor, and brought himself into a standing position, wavering slightly.

Jason tensed.

But Clay regained his balance, drew a breath, and wandered towards them.

Trent rose from the bench. Jason could tell by his movements that he'd switched into medic mode. And rightly so, it appeared, because as Clay approached, the rest of them noticed what Trent had already picked up on - how pale he was, and the slight sheen of perspiration across his brow.

Jason's worry ratcheted up a notch.

Clay paused, wobbled, opened his mouth to say something – and went down.

Trent caught him under the arms before he hit the deck, calling back to Jason for help.

Jason, for his part, swallowed his heart back down his throat and was beside Trent in an instant, with the others crowded around.

They lowered Clay down gently onto his back, making quick work of checking his vitals.

"Grab a crate to elevate his legs," Trent ordered to no one in particular, trusting that someone would be on it.

Ray materialized out of nowhere, crate in hand, and he and Sonny smoothly lifted Clay's feet to rest upon it.

Trent knelt on one side of Clay, Jason on the other.

"He has a fever," Trent reported.

Jason nodded worriedly, having also felt the heat through the younger man's shirt as they'd laid him down. "He sick?" He hazarded a guess.

"Pupils look okay, eyes are a little bloodshot," Trent continued, gently patting Clay's cheek. "Clay? Hey, buddy, you hear me?"

No response.

Sonny fidgeted anxiously behind Trent, peering down at his best friend.

"Can't see any obvious injury," Trent admitted, cupping Clay's jaw and trying a gentle shake. "Spenser?" His voice louder this time, more commanding. "Need you to open your eyes, brother. Tell us what's going on."

As if on cue, Clay's eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was glassy and dazed.

Jason shifted uneasily, not liking this turn of events one bit.

Trent leaned into Clay's line of sight. "There you go, that's it. Take your time."

Clay blinked, raised a shaky hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His lip trembled slightly, his teeth chattering. "Don't … feel so great," he grit out, squeezing his eyes closed. "Came to ask for something for my headache." He opened his eyes to a squint, glancing at the worried faces above and around him. "Guess I didn't quite make it." He blew out a shaky breath. "Sorry."

Jason placed a reassuring hand on Clay's shoulder, looked to Trent.

"Aside from the headache and fever, is there anything else going on?" Trent asked.

Clay grimaced. Swallowed jaggedly. "Sore throat. Achy. Blocked ears." he admitted, eyes squeezed closed again.

Trent pursed his lips. "Since before we left?"

Clay cracked open an eye and blinked at him. "Throat was only scratchy," he admitted. "Didn't think much of it. Figured I was coming down with something. Didn't feel bad enough to say anything."

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, blew out a breath. He wasn't angry at Clay, but his words came out harsher than intended. "You should have said something."

Clay looked like a kicked puppy.

Jason hesitated, reminded himself that Clay was a grown man, and continued. "You have a sore throat - you see Trent. You have a headache - you see Trent. Hell, you have an itchy ass - you see Trent." He pinned Clay with a look, trying for stern but ending up somewhere closer to fatherly concern.

Clay nodded jerkily. Sighed. Flung an arm over his eyes to block the light. He was trembling, and his teeth chattered. "Can I sit up now?" he asked quietly. "This is embarrassing."

Sonny snorted. "Since when do you shun attention?"

Clay peered at him from under his elbow, pulled a face.

"Come on," Trent said, scooting into a position to slide an arm behind Clay's shoulders. "Slowly. And if you're gonna puke, make sure you aim for Sonny, not me."

Clay wobbled into a sitting position once his legs were lowered from the crate, swayed a bit, but found his balance.

"You good, Goldilocks?" Sonny asked tightly, watching him like a hawk.

Jason wasn't ready to move his hand from behind Clay's back.

"I'm cold," Clay stated, to no one in particular, teeth chattering more violently.

"I'll grab a blanket," Lisa announced. She had been standing out of the way with Mandy and Blackburn, watching worriedly but not wanting to get in the way.

"Just a light one," Trent requested after her. "Need to get his temp down. Don't want to trap too much body heat."

Jason glanced at Ray, who hovered beside him. "This is all your fault," he stated with mock accusation.

Ray gave him a what-the-fuck look.

"Jinxed us," Jason clarified. "Remember? I warned you, did I not?"

Ray rolled his eyes.

Clay blinked at them, confused, but not with it enough to ask what Jason was on about.

"Let's get him back to the hammock," Trent said to Jason. "I'll get him something to bring his fever down, should help him feel a little better." He locked eyes with Clay. "You good to stand up? We're gonna go slow. Lean on us okay. Ready?"

Clay replied with a sneeze. Looked miserable.

"I'll take that as a yes," Trent decided.

Jason slung one of Clay's arms over his shoulder, supported him around his waist. Trent flanked him on the opposite side, and together they shuffled back in the direction from which Clay had come, reaching the hammock and smoothly laying him back down. The others hovered around, settling on nearby benches once Clay was horizontal again. Jason noticed that even Eric stayed close by, choosing a seat by Mandy. Their conversation was work-related, but Jason noticed that they kept the hammock in their sights as much as the rest of the guys.

Trent disappeared briefly, returned in a heartbeat with a couple of pills and a bottle of water. Jason helped Clay sit up to take them, feeling the tremors run through the younger man's shoulders. His unruly hair stuck in bits to his sweaty forehead. He sneezed again, groaned, and lay back with his eyes squeezed closed.

Lisa appeared with a thin blanket, and Jason stepped back so that she could drape it over Clay. She squeezed his shoulder gently before moving off in Sonny's direction.

Brock appeared with Cerberus, who was eager to get to the hammock, sniff his youngest team mate and check that he was okay.

"Was trying to break out of his crate," Brock explained with a shrug, watching as Clay dropped a hand to clumsily pet the dog's ears.

Cerberus sniffed the hand, gave a lick, sat down and stared at Brock defiantly, challenging his handler to make him move.

Brock threw up his hands and shook his head with a chuckle, glanced at Trent and Jason before moving off towards Sonny and Lisa.

Clay's eyes were closed, face pinched in a slight grimace.

Jason shifted closer to Trent. "Think he should go to the infirmary after we land?"

Trent's eyes hadn't left the younger man in the hammock. He shook his head. "No," he said after a moment. "My gut tells me it's just a bad cold, or maybe if he' s unlucky, the flu. Ears are blocked, flight isn't helping, and he's probably dizzy because of that and the fever."

Jason nodded, trusting his medic's assessment.

"Wouldn't want him driving home, though," Trent continued. "And if he's not better in a day or two I'll want him to see the doc on base, just to check his throat and ears for any signs of infection."

Jason breathed out a sigh. Spenser would be off duty for at least a week, minimum. Hopefully they weren't spun up during that time, as none of them liked leaving a sick or injured team mate at home.

He regarded his now sleeping rookie, noticing how young he looked.

"I'll drop him home," he found himself offering. "Get him situated. I'm sure between all of us we can keep an eye on him."

Trent nodded, happy with that.

Ray bumped Jason's arm, nodded at Clay. "He alright?" He asked quietly.

"You feeling guilty?" Jason replied with a twitch of a smile.

Ray shook his head, took a nearby seat.

"Doesn't believe in jinxes, he says," Jason muttered, plopping down beside him. "Do me a favour and never say that again."

Ray huffed a laugh, and they both kept watch over their boy in the hammock.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

Clay woke up as they landed, pulling himself upright and blinking around. The meds had reduced his fever but he still looked as miserable as ever. He opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to pop his ears. But it didn't work.

Trent gave him a quick once-over. "Still dizzy?" he asked, as he and Jason helped their wobbly teammate out of the hammock.

Clay sneezed. Groaned. Nodded in reply.

Jason had him by the elbow, steadying him. Clay made a half-hearted attempt to break free, but gave up quickly when it was obvious he needed the support. Jason felt equal parts gratitude and concern that his normally strong-willed rookie didn't put up much of a fight.

"Tylenol every four hours," Trent ordered. "Lots of fluids and rest."

Clay mumbled his acknowledgement.

"Come on," Jason ordered, and gently pushed Clay into motion. Each of the guys had offered to give their younger brother a lift home, but Jason had argued that it was on his way and it wasn't any trouble. He'd agreed to send a message when he had Clay safely back at his apartment.

"I'm fine," Clay attempted to argue, once they descended the ramp from the plane. But a violent sneeze had him wobbling on his feet.

Jason ignored him, continued to guide him along. With Trent and Sonny's help he loaded Clay and their belongings into his truck.

"Just let me know if I need to come stay at his place," Sonny said, hovering a moment beside Clay's door. He'd already offered at least ten times. "I don't mind. Honest."

Jason had no doubt of that. But he'd also noticed Lisa waiting by Sonny's truck, and he had a feeling that the two of them had plans, and he had his suspicions about the true nature of their relationship. As much as he approved, he also hoped they were being careful. If he'd picked up on it, chances were others had too. He'd have to have a quiet word with Sonny, but for now he just waved him off.

"Go get some rest," he stated. "And that pizza you've been banging on about since we left Mexico."

Sonny hesitated a moment longer, obviously torn between his best friend and one of his favourite foods.

"Go," Jason repeated. And then, because he couldn't help himself, he added, "You shouldn't leave a lady waiting."

An unidentifiable emotion flickered across Sonny's features, and he blanched slightly.

Jason patted him on the shoulder, offered a smile. "I'll message when Clay is home and settled." He didn't wait for Sonny's reply, just nodded, waved goodbye to Trent, and walked around to the driver's side of his truck.

Clay shifted as the engine revved to life. "Could have got a cab home," he argued.

Jason ignored him.

Clay settled into the seat, head tilted back, eyes closed, still pale but not shaking like he had been on the flight. The thin blanket was tucked around his shoulders.

He was asleep before they'd even made it through the base gates.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

Jason stopped at a red light not far from Clay's apartment. He regarded the sleeping man in the passenger's seat.

Once again, the kid looked a lot younger than his years – far from the lethal tier one operator that he was. The sight made Jason think of his own kids when they were sick, and he felt a familiar pang of over-protectiveness, a parental longing to make it all better.

He thought about the fact that it was Father's Day and how grateful he was for his children. How proud he was of them, and how much he loved them. And a sudden heaviness settled in hit gut as he thought about Clay's own useless waste-of-space of a father. He had no doubt that Father's Day was a foreign concept to Clay, perhaps even hurt a little every year when it came around.

Chewing his lip, he made his decision. He didn't turn off towards Clay's apartment. Instead he pulled up by a convenience store and grabbed a few bottles of Gatorade and a couple of boxes of tissues. He paused outside the store, supplies in a paper bag tucked under one arm. Juggling his cell phone, he dialed Emma. He could see Clay still asleep in the passenger seat, sunset colours splashed across the windshield as the glass reflected the fiery sky.

"You far off?" Emma answered brightly. "I've got the batter ready and I'm just about to start cooking."

Jason's stomach grumbled at the thought of pancakes. "Yeah, hey, Em," he answered, balancing the phone briefly between shoulder and ear as he readjusted the bag under his arm. "Do you think you could, uh, set another place at the table?"

There was a beat of silence.

And then Emma replied, "We have company?"

Jason faltered, trying to work out whether he'd upset his daughter by asking if he could bring someone along to their special pancake dinner.

But before he could form a reply, she cut him off. "It's all good," she reassured him. "The more the merrier."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just hurry up," she ordered jokingly. "Mikey keeps complaining he's starving, and I can't guarantee he wont eat all of them before you get here if you take too long."

Jason smiled. "Roger that," he agreed.

He ended the call and hopped back into the truck, dumping the bag at Clay's feet. The younger man stirred and cracked open his eyes. "Where are we?" He mumbled, blinking and dazedly looking around.

"On our way home," Jason replied, restarting the engine. "I hope you like pancakes."

Clay just blinked in confusion, thrown off by the strange question.

Jason took a moment to send a quick group text to his team to let them know he'd be taking care of their boy tonight.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

Jason pulled into the driveway of the house he was still learning to call home. Modest – _cosy_, as Emma put it – with no fancy trimmings. But tidy and functional, even with a small fourth bedroom that came in handy when his mother stayed – which seemed to be frequently these days. (God, what would he do without her?) And, most importantly, no lifetime of memories attached to it.

He'd needed this little house. They all had. He had no regrets buying it, as hard as it had been selling the house he and Alana had bought together all those years ago and had raised their children in. Moving hadn't just been to pay for Emma's college. It was a clean slate. A chance to start again somewhere new; a space to make new memories. Hopefully happy ones.

He patted Clay's arm, and the younger man startled awake.

"Wake up, sunshine," he announced.

Clay sneezed, and rubbed at his eyes groggily. Sneezed again. Groaned.

Jason hopped out of the truck and made it to Clay's door before the kid even had his seatbelt off. "Come on," he said, grabbing the paper bag he'd dropped at Clay's feet. "You can't sleep in here all night. Need to try to eat something, take your next lot of pills, and get some more fluids into you."

Clay blinked at the house, shaking his head. "This isn't my apartment."

"No shit, Sherlock," Jason replied, and helped him down.

Clay's knees nearly buckled once his feet were on the ground, but Jason steadied him.

"You good?" the older man asked after a beat, supporting most of Clay's weight.

Clay nodded. "Don't need to babysit me," he grumbled. "I would have been fine on my own."

Jason ignored him, just moved them towards the front door. Clay gained his balance and pulled away to walk on his own. But he leaned heavily against the door frame as Jason fumbled with the keys.

The smell of freshly cooked pancakes engulfed them as they entered the house, and Mikey appeared, hearing the door.

Emma popped her head around a corner, peering from the kitchen with spatula in hand. "Aha!" She said triumphantly, eyes locking on Clay. "You owe me ten bucks, Mikey!"

Jason wrapped his son in a tight hug.

"Hi, Clay," Mikey offered with a smile.

Clay gave him a weary salute, wobbled slightly. Jason grabbed his elbow and led him to the couch. The small living area was in full view of the kitchen, a cozy dining nook off to the side – the table set for four.

"Sit," Jason ordered. But the command was unnecessary, as Clay's legs had folded and he plopped down heavily.

Emma appeared, and Jason wrapped her in a hug. "Stop making bets with your brother," he told her quietly. "He loses way too much pocket money to you."

"It's a life lesson," she countered, grinning.

Jason rolled his eyes, and then looked at her questioningly. "You guessed I would have Clay with me?"

She shrugged, eyeing the young man on the couch who was now chatting with Mikey about something hockey-related. "I figured he was the most likely, what with Stella calling it quits again."

Jason cocked an eyebrow. "How did you know that? I didn't even know that until a few hours ago."

"Aunt Naima mentioned something," Emma replied casually. "I put two and two together."

Jason wasn't surprised. His daughter had always been intuitive. She was a smart girl.

"He okay?" She asked quietly, observing Clay's deflated demeaner and narrowing her eyes.

Jason sighed. "Not really," he replied. "He's a bit under the weather. Didn't want to dump him at his place if he'd be on his own."

She shook her head, expression slightly amused. "When are you going to tell him you've officially adopted him?" She teased.

Jason huffed and waved her off. "He's a grown man, Em. Hardly needs adopting."

But she wasn't listening, was already halfway back to the stove. "Whatever you need to tell yourself," she commented over her shoulder. But her words were warm, and Jason was glad that neither she nor Mikey seemed to mind that he'd brought a guest to their special dinner.

"Pancakes are ready," Emma announced, changing the subject.

Jason eyed the impressive stack as she added the last few.

"Come on," he clapped Clay on the shoulder. "Come and eat. I'll get you some more meds." He once again noted the heat radiating from his youngest team member. "Then you can go to bed."

"I really don't need to stay," came the mumbled protest.

But Jason wasn't listening. Instead he grabbed Mikey around the middle and hoisted him up and over his shoulder.

His son couldn't help the laughter. "Dad! Put me down! I'm not five!"

Jason dropped him into a seat at the table as Emma brought over the pancakes.

"This looks amazing," he said genuinely, giving them each a kiss on the top of their heads. "Thanks guys. I'm a lucky dad."

"We're just glad you could make it home for Father's Day," Emma grinned, taking a seat.

Jason nodded. "Me too," he replied, feeling like the day had taken on even more meaning for the three of them since Alana had died.

"Um…" Clay hesitated, on his feet but holding the back of the couch and seeming reluctant to join them. He looked a little embarrassed. "I, uh, didn't realize it was Father's Day," he admitted. "I think it's probably better for you guys to have some time alone. I'll take a cab."

Jason pinned him with a look that clearly told him that wasn't going to happen. "Sit," he said after a moment, gesturing to the vacant chair, his tone brooking no argument.

Clay sighed tiredly, obviously realizing he wasn't going to win this one. He shuffled over awkwardly.

"I feel like I'm intruding," he admitted.

Jason ignored him, and Emma quirked her lip as she watched her father prepare a plate of pancakes with lemon and honey, reach over and place it pointedly in front of Clay. "Emma's pancakes are the best. Don't offend her by not at least trying to eat some."

Clay blinked at his plate, offered Emma a grateful smile.

"And besides," Mikey added around a mouthful, gesturing to Clay's plate with his fork. "Dad's made you a plate of magic pancakes."

Emma shook her head, looking from Clay to Jason, grinning.

Jason shrugged. "They worked for you guys when you were little."

Clay's eyes were slightly glazed, his cheeks flushed. He blinked, not understanding.

"Whenever we were sick," Emma clarified, spearing her dad with an amused look. "Dad would make us pancakes with lemon and honey. He'd tell us they were magic and that they'd make us feel better."

Clay regarded his pancakes. "And did they?" He asked, tone sounding genuinely curious.

Emma laughed, nodding. "Somehow," she admitted.

"Every time," Mikey stated.

Emma regarded Clay thoughtfully. "You look like you could use some magic pancakes tonight."

Clay blew out a breath, eyed Jason. There were a lot of emotions flickering across his features.

Jason was painfully aware that Ash would never have done anything even remotely similar for his boy. Hell, the man had put thousands of miles between them instead.

Clay swallowed jaggedly, regarded Emma and Mikey. "You guys have a good dad." He gave a gentle smile.

"That we do," Emma agreed, and raised her water glass. "Here's to you, dad."

They each raised their glasses towards the center, Clay hesitating a moment before joining in.

Jason regarded his kids - and his 'kid'. Perhaps his daughter was right, and he did feel a little _fartherly _towards his rookie. No one else needed to know. He would blame Ash Spenser for leaving the role wide open. "Here's to _family_," he nodded.

And if Clay's eyes were a little glassy, Jason would agree to blame it on the fever.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

**End**


End file.
